Changing at the Beach A Morality Tale
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Hunting At The Beach, A Morality Tale Of Dark Design free porn video
Hunting at the Beach, A Morality Tale of Dark Design
Randall Wayne Mudge believed in patience. In this need-everything-
instantly era when the lack of it had fatally sunk the ambitions of
countless talented fools, Randy was no fool. He knew that if you learned
to handle the boredom, the patient hunter would always be rewarded.
He leaned against a cinderblock wall which shaded his pale skin from the
bright summer sun. From this vantage, he could watch passersby as they
enjoyed a beautiful day at the beach.
Like any good predator, he wasn't the sort that tended to be noticed. He
was average height and, other than a bit of a punch, lean and bony. His
face was nothing special, grey eyes set close together above a blade of a
nose over a black handlebar mustache and three-day stubble covering a weak
chin. No one would give him a second look in his threadbare blue T-shirt
with a Nike swoosh, faded jeans and a pair of thrift store sneakers. A red
cap with a political slogan on it covered his shaggy black mullet. Randy
didn't give a shit about politics but it seemed like a good way to blend
in with the hayseeds in the Midwest. Here on the coast, he might have to
rethink that.
As he drew out a cigarette and lit it with practiced ease, he kept his
eyes on the beach and the potential prey walking past. He saw many tender
young women, sexy and fit just the way he liked them. The one pushing the
double baby stroller was out of the question as long as her husband stuck
by her side. To his annoyance, some of them had dogs. People couldn't be
counted on to pick up after those disgusting things. They were useful only
for dissecting, preferably while still alive. A luscious Latina with a
baby strapped to her front seemed like a nice choice. So did a whole lot
of other pretty ladies. Except for the dogs, this was the perfect hunting
ground. He smiled and chuckled to himself.
He wasn't about to go after any of them in broad daylight, though. He
would wait until dark and see who decided to take a moonlight stroll on
the boardwalk or along the shore. That would be his time.
The lengthening shadows, found Randall in the parking lot gathering some
of the tools of his trade from the trunk of his rust-bucket car. He slid a
stiletto switchblade into his front pocket and a box cutter into a back
one. He also pocketed a pair of disposable latex gloves. He made sure he
had some large garbage bags within easy reach the moment he popped the
trunk again, along with a change of clothes if needed.
It was time to go hunting for real, to start populating the coast with
shallow graves to go with the ones he'd left in the Midwest. He was
getting heated up just thinking about the fun he would have.
For the next few hours, as the darkness deepened, Randall wandered the
beach and boardwalk, finding it frustratingly deserted. He had known it
wouldn't be easy to find his perfect target conveniently alone, but he
hadn't expected to find the place practically deserted. Was there some
event going on in town?
He wandered up and down some nearby streets and found a few people, but
not the lone girls he was looking for.
When he returned to the beach, a man was walking a dog along the shore,
but no women could be seen anywhere. He decided to go back to the spot
he'd watched from during the day and wait. It gave him a good view of the
beach and he would be able to hear anyone coming up the boardwalk. He took
up his position and lit a cigarette.
After an hour of tedious waiting, he heard footsteps and took a quick
glance around the corner. In the dull glow of the boardwalk lights, he saw
a woman in a tie-dyed shirt with long straight hair bound in a headband
unlock the door of one of the shops and step in. The shop window lit up a
few moments later. Randall smiled.
He dropped the butt of his latest cigarette, crushed it under his foot,
pulled on the latex gloves and drew out his switchblade, clutching it in
his fisted hand as he quickstepped toward the patch of light where he
would find his quarry.
Taking a quick look into the cluttered window, he thought he saw the woman
crouched behind the counter as if she were looking for something. This was
perfect.
The door was unlocked. Slipping through it, he flicked open the
switchblade and got ready to have a good time.
He strode over to the counter, but when he stepped around it, no one was
there. He glanced about in annoyance. This shop was too small for her to
hide for long. He checked a tiny storeroom behind the counter and then
searched among the displays out front, finding no one. The lights were
still on and the door was unlocked, but the place was deserted.
Had the woman seen him and slipped out the back? Were the police coming?
He hadn't done anything yet, but his heart pounded nonetheless. On the
wall by the door, he saw a bright yellow sign that read:
WARNING
Theft is a crime, this isn't a game.
Steal from us and you won't be the same.
Touch nothing and leave, if you wish to abide,
for the winds of change will not be denied.
Your dark design will be fully reversed,
and transformation will do its worst.
That did it. "No one fucks with me," he mumbled to himself.
He was considering what damage he would do before leaving when he noticed
that the till was open and there was cash in it. Not a lot, maybe a few
hundred bucks, but he could always use it.
He folded to the switchblade and returned it to his pocket and then
grabbed the bills, rolling them into a wad and stuffing them into his
pocket as he headed out the door. He might do well to go hunting somewhere
else tonight.
A light glowed in one of the windows back in the direction from which he
had come. It had been dark when he had passed it earlier. He wasn't about
to let another opportunity get away from him so he headed over, glanced
around to make sure no one was watching, and looked in. This was some kind
of clothing store loaded with displays of swimwear and other summer
attire. He thought he saw movement in the back and tried the door, finding
it unlocked. Maybe that's where that woman had gone.
Again, he drew out his switchblade and snapped it open as he slipped
inside. This was dangerous. He couldn't be sure the woman was alone, but
he was just frustrated enough to take the risk.
The cluttered shop was stuffed with brightly colored beachwear. Racks of
summer dresses and displays of bikinis competed with floppy hats and
assorted bags, sandals, beach towels, and sunscreen. Everything his prey
would need for a trip to the sunny shore.
He paid little attention to any of that as he quickly made his way through
the store checking every hidden corner and hiding place he could find.
Again, he came up empty. He wanted to break something, to smash up the
entire place, but he knew better than to draw that kind of attention. He
hadn't gotten this far by being that sloppy. The time had come for a
strategic retreat.
He folded the knife, pocketing it along with the gloves and headed back
toward the door. That, in any case, was his intention. All he found was a
maze of displays which he twisted and turned through until he was right
back where he'd been when he'd decided to leave. How had he gotten so
confused in such a small place?
"Well, shit," he said as he turned and headed in the direction he figured
the door should be. He didn't find it but found himself, instead, back at
the same spot yet again.
This was some kind of trap. Something had to be in the air, deliberately
designed to confuse him, some sort of gas.
"They won't fucking get away with this," he said as he tossed his cap and
shirt to the floor and undid his pants.
"I'll cut up whoever's responsible for this." He kicked off his pants and
his shoes along with them.
"Whoever you are, you might as well fucking come out and show yourself!"
His underwear dropped to the floor.
"I'll... !" He realized that he was naked. His clothes were scattered on
the floor around him. He looked at them in anger and confusion. Why had he
taken them off? Some kind of gas really had to be in the air, messing with
his brain. "Well, fuck!"
He bent down to grab his underwear and found that he couldn't bring
himself to do it. When he thought about putting his clothes back on, an
overwhelming sense of revulsion flooded through him that was so powerful
that eating dog shit would have been easier. For the first time in a long
while, he began to feel real fear.
This was unnatural. He couldn't stay naked like this.
A flowery bikini hung on a rack next to him and he grabbed the bottom and
pulled it on. As he pulled on the matching top, he realized that he should
get his switchblade and box cutter, along with his other stuff, out of his
pockets.
Looking down at his clothes, he noticed that something was wrong with
them. They didn't seem quite real. As he watched, they became even less
real and faded away. In a moment, they were gone, as if they had never
existed, and his gear, keys, wallet, and cigarettes had gone with them.
He knew he should be panicking. He had just watched... what had he just
watched? Oh yeah, his clothes had disappeared. At least he had something
to wear.
A floor-length mirror stood by one of the displays and he walked over to
it and checked himself out. The bikini, with its colorful floral pattern,
looked ridiculous on his hairy body. He tried to take the top off, but
even as his hands started to reach for it he found that he couldn't. It
would have been easier to pull his nose off.
At last, he looked across the store and saw the front door. This place,
with this entire beach, was straight out of The Twilight Zone and he
needed to get out of here. He strode up to the door, opened it and
stopped, unable to step through it. A surge of anger made him try to force
another step, but the moment his foot reached the threshold, he was
gripped with a panic-inducing sense that he was stepping into an abyss and
he pulled back so hard he barely managed to stop himself from tumbling
over.
He stared out the door at the boardwalk and the beach beyond where a
couple strolled beneath a moon whose pale glow created a rippling streak
through the waves. It looked like a painting and he couldn't shake the
feeling that it wasn't real, like the image on a television screen and the
entire universe had contracted itself down to this one little clothing
store.
The sound of footsteps came from his left and the same woman whom he had
followed into the other shop came strolling up the boardwalk. In her
hippie-dippy cloths, with a peace sign necklace prominently displayed over
her tie-dyed T-shirt, she should not have seemed menacing, but she did. He
took a step back from the door.
She stopped and squared herself to the opening with her hands on her hips
and favored him with a wide grin. "Hey man, how's hunting these days?"
He did what he usually did when someone got too nosey and said nothing.
"So the secretive predator stays in stealth mode, does he?" said the
woman. "My name, by the way, is Tina. What's yours?"
He wanted to continue to say nothing but an impulse forced him to answer
truthfully, "Randall Wayne Mudge."
Her grin became less friendly. "What was that? Lay that on me again."
Once more, he couldn't hold back. "I said, Rand Way Mud."
Her grin grew wider, if not friendlier, "Damn straight. Randall Mudge no
longer exists."
Rand didn't understand what she was talking about. He'd never heard of
Randall Mudge.
"You look confused," she said. "The straight dope is that not only does
Randall Mudge no longer exist, but as of now, he never did. Because of
that, there are sixteen young women who get to live. Ain't that groovy?"
He didn't know what to make of this. That was the exact number of bitches
he'd raped and snuffed. He hadn't kept souvenirs, but he had kept track of
the number. "I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, lady." He
wished he had his knife. The woman was begging to be carved up.
She frowned and her eyes seemed to glow. "Oh, you follow me alright, but
not for much longer. Nice bikini, by the way." She turned and walked off
into the night.
He glanced down at his hairless body clad in the brightly colored, flowery
bikini.
Murderous rage filled Ran and he would have burst out after her if he
could have overcome the irresistible feeling that the world ended at that
door. Everything inside him said that this little store was the whole
universe and there was nowhere else he could go. He was helpless to fight
it.
The door closed behind him as he turned around and considered a universe
that consisted of racks of beach clothes and other paraphernalia.
He clenched his fists and shouted, "No one fucks over Ra Wa Mu!"
Ra rushed toward a large picture of a model wearing a colorful sarong wrap
and drew his fist back to smash it.
He stopped. He couldn't do it. The woman in the picture looked so gorgeous
in that wrap. All he could do was stand and stare at it, drinking in the
beauty of the image.
After a few minutes, he turned and saw a display of colorful bracelets and
hurried over to them. He selected a cute pink one and put it on his thin
little wrist. Then he piled on half a dozen more. They were just so
pretty. He added an ankle bracelet for good measure.
A display of wedge sandals drew his attention next. He stared at them for
a moment and then realized that they would be just so perfect because her
feet tended to go up on their tiptoes anyway. She put on the highest pair
she could find. They felt perfect and natural and the open toes showed off
her pretty red toenails.
R ran her hands over her smooth, firm body as she made her way back to the
mirror and considered herself. The swimsuit's top fit perfectly over her
pert little breasts with the bottom clinging snugly to her flat crotch and
heart-shaped bum. She noticed that her hair sat a little crooked on her
smooth head so she straightened the stylish blonde wig until it looked
perfect.
She looked around, wondering what to do next. She had been upset about
something but she couldn't remember what. There was nothing out of place
in her little universe.
Still, something was not quite right. She looked back at the mirror.
Whatever was wrong, it was not her. The perfect arches of her eyebrows
were painted in dark brown over large eyes colored a deep blue and her
lashes were long and thick, exactly as she had been designed. She had a
delicate little nose and her full lips were covered in bright red paint.
Her face's blank stare was just right. So what could be missing?
Again, it looked around. It was sure that there was somewhere it needed to
be. Then it noticed the silvery metal disk sitting in a corner next to a
display. A thin rod rose up from the middle of it.
That was its place. It made its way stiffly over to the stand and stood so
that the rod entered the back of its left leg just below its bum. It was
now attached. This was correct. It arranged its arms and legs in a
fetching pose, holding its hands just so and turning its head in the
proper direction.
Time passed.
The window filled with daylight and a woman came up to the door, unlocked
it and entered. She moved about, doing things and, at one point, stopped
in front of it holding a large floppy hat and a pair of sunglasses. She
placed the hat on its head and then pushed the sunglasses over its eyes
and stepped back.
An expression appeared on the woman's face that involved her eyes widening
and her teeth showing. "That's perfect," she said.
The woman moved out of its line of sight. It could hear her moving around,
though the concept of movement was meaningless to it.
Another woman came in the door. She had a headband and seemed vaguely
familiar.
"Hi Tina," came a voice from behind it. "Admiring my new mannequin?"
"Yeah," said the woman with the headband. "It's far out! I bet it'll
really boost sales."
"I think it will," said the other voice. "I just want to thank you for
getting me a deal on this thing, a genuine 1960s vintage mannequin. They
don't make 'em like that anymore and she's in perfect shape. She's so
gorgeous and unrealistically thin, just what I needed to give this place a
retro feel."
"Don't mention it," said the woman with the headband. "I'm glad I could
help a fellow merchant and I'm definitely cool with your choice. I'm a bit
of a retro fan myself."
The other voice laughed. "Yeah, I noticed that. You do have a unique sense
of style."
The two moving people continued to make talking noises. They moved around
and made more noises for a while longer until the woman with the headband
left the universe.
More people of all sizes and shapes zipped in and out of the universe.
They seemed to scurry about with increasing speed, continuously making
talking noises. Soon, the moving people were just a blur and the talking
noises just a high-pitched buzz.
Time passed.
The window grew dark. Movement and noise stopped.
The window brightened. Movement and noise started.
The window grew dark. Movement and noise stopped.
The window brightened. Movement and noise started.
Hearing noise made no sense, so it stopped hearing.
The window grew dark. Movement stopped.
The window brightened. Movement started.
The window grew dark. Movement stopped.
The window brightened. Movement started.
Seeing things, made no sense so it stopped seeing.
Time passed.
Being aware made no sense, so...
Alma
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